


Guardian

by KayKelly



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst and Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:44:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayKelly/pseuds/KayKelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone from Spencer's past needed to be cared for and healed.<br/>Spencer didn't realize that he needed the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian

"Witches steal young children out of their cradles, ministerio daemonum, and put deformed in their rooms, which we call changelings."  
-Robert Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy (1621)

 

 

Spencer Reid had barely taken his first sip of coffee and was just pulling out his desk chair, when Aaron's voice called for him. "Reid. I need to speak with you."

Spencer looked up, "Yes, Sir?" but Aaron was already back inside his office.

"What'd you do now, kid?" Morgan asked, grinning and shaking his head.

"Nothing! I swear!" Spencer insisted. His voice cracked a little when he spoke and his eyebrows shot up in an exaggerated look of innocence.

Morgan chuckled and started flipping through a stack of paperwork. Spencer climbed the stairs leading up to Aaron's office. He paused to look back down at Morgan and rolled his eyes at his friend before entering. "Hey, Hotch."

"Close the door and have a seat," was Aaron's reply. He was standing by the window reading a file.

Spencer's stomach did a little flip as he complied. 'Maybe I AM in trouble?' he wondered to himself. Aaron seemed stiff...well, stiffer than usual.

The thin, young genius took a seat across from Aaron's desk and folded his hands in his lap. Aaron strode over to his own chair and cleared his throat. No real eye-contact yet let Spencer know that this actually WAS something serious and that Aaron was trying to find the right words. Spencer's eyes flicked to the closed file that Aaron had been reading. A corner of one of the papers inside was sticking out and he froze when he immediately recognized the Nevada State Seal. He fixed his large eyes on Aaron's face. "My mother? Is she..."

Aaron finally looked directly at Spencer. "You mother is fine," he replied. Spencer opened his mouth but was cut off, "and your father as well," Aaron added. "This is about your sister."

Spencer's face was one huge question mark. He's rarely stumped, but for that second he was struggling. "But...I don't have a sister..." He leaned forward keeping his hands folded so as not to grab the file away from Aaron. He looked as though he were perhaps trying to SMELL the information since he couldn't see the words.

Aaron took a breath ready to explain the situation and then just pushed the file across the desk toward Spencer. The kid would be able to read the entire thing faster than Aaron could tell him half of it anyway.

Spencer opened the file and devoured page after page, his eyes moving back and forth so fast he seemed as though he were having a seizure. The paper with the Nevada State Seal was just a little report by authorities who had interviewed Spencer's mother. The interview was regarding a home in Pasadena, California where Spencer used to stay when on breaks from Caltech.

It was a nice home, Spencer remembered. A large, 1930s craftsman bungalow. The Thorntons...Rob and Sunny Thornton. They were hippie, empty-nesters who opened up their home to all kinds of lost kids. They had a few official foster children they cared for year-round and seasonal college kids dropping in and out. The Thorntons grew their own organic vegetables and sold reclaimed furniture pieces in a little shop on their property.  
Sunny had passed away a few years back. Spencer had wanted to attend the funeral but was on a case. Rob had moved to a nursing home soon after losing his wife. They hadn't had foster children for years and the college kids all found other places to stay.

Spencer flipped to a section of the file from the San Diego FBI field office. There was a photocopy of a handwritten message. Printed in what looked like shaky, elementary school level handwriting was Spencer's own name:

SPENCER REID

and under that:

BROTHER

 

Aaron watched Spencer intently as the young agent took everything in and connected the dots. Another page flipped and Spencer was reading the results of a medical exam performed on a 16 year old girl...

underweight...no known allergies...no medical reason for lack of speech...may be selective mutism...patient refused pelvic exam...became extremely upset...suspected sexual abuse/assault...antibiotics given as a precaution...blood work shows slight anemia...

Spencer doesn't read the same way mere mortal would. He "absorbs" an entire page at a time. All the information on the medical page went into his brain at once, including the name of the victim: Sora Nolan.  
His eyes stopped dead on the name. "Oh. My sister..."

 

******

Sora had been 8 when she first came to live with the Thorntons. She had been removed from her family due to physical abuse and neglect. Spencer had also stayed with the Thorntons for the first time that summer. He was 18 and working toward his doctorate in engineering. He didn't have much interaction with her or any of the kids at the house that summer; having just committed his mother, he preferred to keep to himself. He remembered that Sora was one of the last, long-term foster children the Thorntons took in as they were starting to feel their age.

Despite her history of abuse, Spencer remembered her being very outgoing and talkative. She seemed happy to be at the Thorntons home and made friends with the other children quickly. She acted like she was everyone else's little mother. Hugging other kids when they were feeling down, telling silly stories for a laugh, singing all the time. She loved to sing.

One day during Spencer's second summer at the home, he was mindlessly pulling weeds in the garden to hide from the others. He didn't like being in the dirt or how it felt to have dirt under his fingernails, but he was always looking for little ways to punish himself at that time. It had been a year since he had had his mother committed. The guilt was still enormous on his thin, 19 year old shoulders and he hated himself. He shifted on his knees in the dirt and reached for another weed when he spotted a scuffed pair of sneakers with pink laces walking down the next row.

"Hey! Spence!" Sora chirped at him. Her blonde hair was in two long braids. "Can you put the chain back on my bike again?" It was nearly a daily request.

"If you weren't such a daredevil," he began looking pointedly at her scabbed-over knees, "your chain wouldn't fall off all the time."

Sora shrugged her shoulders. "That's why I'm saving to buy a REAL BMX bike! Not a little kids' bike. I want to do REAL tricks and stunts and...HEEEY!"  
Spencer covered his face with his hands...he knew what was coming next..."Remember LAST summer when you were leaving you said that NEXT summer you would build me a bike ramp?! Well...it's NEXT summer now!" She clapped her hands like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Of course I remember what I said..."Spencer started, not counting on the fact that SHE'D still remember after a year.

"When can you start the ramp, Spence?" She clamped his shoulder and shook it like he was asleep, "WHEN?" she begged, and then not waiting for a reply, "How 'bout today?! I can help!" He dropped his hands from his face and couldn't help but smile up at her. Sora's eyes were a crystal blue and absolutely clear with a seemingly inner source of their own light. He watched as her eyes narrowed at him and he quickly looked back down at the pile of weeds on the ground before him. But, damn, it was too late. She saw it...

"Why are you sad?" She patted his shoulder and then whispered, "You miss your mom. I know." She took a step back and held her chin in one hand as if (dramatically) thinking hard about something. "Hey, we can draw her some pictures and send them to her! She'll love that!"  
Spencer had heard her say the same thing before to little kids staying at the house but he wasn't offended. It was true. He was sad about his mom and writing letters to her did help the guilt...for a little while.

Mrs Thornton called across the back yard. Sora pulled on Spencer's arm. "It's lunch time, Spence. C'mon, let's eat. We have SO much to do!" She held his hand as they walked toward the house. "We have to make pictures for your mom, and design the bike ramp...Hey! We could send your mom a picture of our ramp design!"  
Spencer found himself smiling again. This little chatter-box had managed to make him smile more in the last half hour than he usually does in a month at school.

"Spence, this will be the best day ever! The ramp will be my best present ever! Like, in the whole world! You'll be back at school when I have my 10th birthday, but this ramp will TOTALLY cover my birthday AND Christmas this year, ok?" she said the last bit as though everyone should be stressed about getting her really special gifts this year but that Spencer would be off the hook for making the ramp. He was feeling a little nervous now...Mrs Thornton might not be too keen on the idea of a bike ramp at all. Sora tugged on his hand, "You're like...you're like...the BEST big brother EVER!"

He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.

"So, okay, we're not TECHNICALLY related, but Mrs Thornton says we are all her kids, so...." she paused and looked back up at him hopefully.

Spencer nodded. "Yes. We are a family here, Sora." She beamed and decided to be quiet for a while. Right then it occurred to Spencer that she tried to make close connections to others a bit fast...but kids do that, abused or not. Kids can make a best friend in a day...  
He took a deep breath as they reached the sliding glass door and he opened it for his new "little sister."

 

******

 

Spencer flipped through more pages. The FBI in San Diego had discovered a large human trafficking ring. The clients were extremely wealthy and in the market for young girls. There clients weren't just in the market for underage prostitutes, they were buying full-service "wives." Preteens and younger were being kidnapped and sold from all over the country and mexico and shipped to San Diego where they were imprisoned in what could be described as a warehouse/training center. While being held in the warehouse, the girls were groomed mentally and physically to be the perfect, young, submissive wives to their future husbands/owners: How to keep house, cook, clean, respond to commands, and their virginity was guaranteed by the seller.  
Girls who were taken and believed not to be virgins were used as prostitutes to finance the daily operations. A slim, American girl with blonde hair and blue eyes would fetch millions of dollars overseas.

After busting the trafficking ring, the FBI had been trying to reunite the girls with their families. Since Sora wasn't speaking, someone managed to get her to write some information. She wrote down the address for the Thorntons in Pasadena and Spencer's name, identifying him as her brother.  
The FBI found the the Thorntons no longer owned the house, Mrs Thornton had passed away, and tracked Mr Thornton down in his nursing home. He told them that during Sora's third summer with them, her mother regained custody of the girl. It was the same summer that Spencer did not return to the Thorntons because he had moved to the D.C. area and began his work for the BAU.

The final page of the report is a current photo of Sora. She looks like a young lady version of the little girl Spencer remembered. It was strange to miss a huge piece of someone's life and then suddenly see them again. Her face had lengthened and her cheekbones were prominent. Her eyes are still a striking light blue but they look absolutely blank; devoid of any personality.

 

Aaron cleared his throat gently. "The San Diego FBI office sent me this file overnight so that I could brief you on the situation. It's still an active investigation."

"How?" was all Spencer could croak out.

"Sora's mother died of a drug overdose last year. It looks as though her mother may have sold Sora into this a couple of years ago." Aaron looked uncomfortable. "Were you close? Were you really like brother and sister?"

"Yes and no?" Spencer explained. "It was akin to how some kids will become fast, deep friends with somebody at summer camp, but outside of camp, you're not really connected." He looked down at the picture of Sora and felt a surge of guilt. "That sounds like I didn't really care, but I did feel like a brother to her at times but we are nearly ten years apart and that's a big gap between siblings. She was a very kind person. I used to call her our 'Pasadena Pollyanna,'" Spencer said with a small, forced laugh. "She made overly strong attachments to others very quickly. I did send cards for the year after I moved away from California and she wrote back too, but then it stopped. I chalked it up to Sora becoming a preteen at the time."

The two men sat across from each other in silence for a few moments. Spencer shook his hair out of his eyes and asked Aaron, "What happens now?"


End file.
